Treasures
++ Altihex ++ It hasn't been that long since Whirl first heard the news about Shiftlock and went on his self destructive rampage in the Dead End. Since then he's had a lot of time to think about everything that happened, mostly because he was banned from leaving the Decagon until he was deemed mentally fit to do so. Spoiler alert: Whirl isn't mentally fit enough for anything but despite this, he was able to get the green light to return to active duty. As soon as he was able to, Whirl sent a message to Blast Off asking for a rendevouz at their typical spot. So there he is now, stoic and silent upon the starry bench in Altihex, the one he's decided belongs to him and Blast Off. Should Altihex ever find itself under Decepticon attack, that bench will be the only thing Whirl bothers to rescue. Blast Off has been in a right mess himself, too. Not quite as...spectacularly as Whirl, but the shuttle's also been dealing with grief regarding Shiftlock. Who oddly enough is the reason he and Whirl came together and it is that grief over her death that draws them together now. Well that, and more. As Blast Off found out, it is extremely difficult to see the person you care most about on this planet in a self-destructive spiral- and be completey impotent to do anything to help them. The Combaticon could only come to the scene of Whirl's cry for destruction, then pretend he didn't care while he silently hoped that at least the sight of him being there would provide some small measure of support for the grieving cyclops. It was far harder than he'd imagined, and now he's been left to worry and wait and wonder how Whirl was doing or if he was at all okay. When he received the radio signal, Blast Off wasted no time finding an excuse to leave and now he approaches the bench. Spotting Whirl, he stops and stares. He also sways just a tiny bit and there's the smell of wine about him. "....Whirl." So wrapped up in his own thoughts was Whirl that he wasn't even aware Blast Off had already arrived until he hears his name, the cyclops perking up slightly and craning his neck to stare at the shuttleformer over his shoulder. His optic flickers ever so slightly, the closest thing to an expression he's capable of making. As someone who spends most of his time intoxicated, Whirl can tell right off the bat that Blast Off has been drinking but he doesn't say anything about it because, let's face it, both of them could use some binge-drinking right now after everything that has happened. "Blast Off. It's been a while." Blast Off stands there swaying and staring, suddenly unsure how to proceed. Silence stretches between them for a long moment as stars shine down and a distant siren wails. Then the shuttleformer's optic ridges furrow down and he takes a faltering step towards the other mech. "....Yes." Another step. His words are slightly slurred. "....How /are/ you? I... All I saw was them take you away, and then I... I..." Another shaky step forward. "Are you alright?" Whirl isn't sure he's seen Blast Off this drunk before. No, scratch that, he has, but that was different. Both of them were drunk so it wasn't nearly as awkward as this is right now. The Combaticon takes a wobbly step forward and Whirl rises to his feet, closing the gap between them and putting an arm out to steady his unlikely partner. "I'm.. I'm fine. Everything's fine.. Nothing to worry about, okay? Everything's fine.." There's a pause as Whirl looks away, his optic flickering noticeably. "..No. No, I'm NOT okay. She's dead, Blast Off. She's dead and she's never coming back." He looks back at Blast Off and his voice begins to crack as he continues. "I said I was going to protect her. I was supposed to keep an eye on her, bail her out when she got in trouble. But I failed. I failed, Blast Off! She's dead! And I couldn't help her!" The shuttleformer starts to sway again, caught just in time by his partner. Blast Off's arm wraps around Whirl as he leans against the other mech and stares at the cyclop's optic. Indeed, it can be hard to read expression there, but he's getting to know Whirl enough to catch that flickering light and see the turmoil inside. His own optics flicker slightly in sympathetic response, especially as he hears Whirl's anguished reply. Blast Off isn't a hugely compassionate mech, and he can be rather cold and distant much of the time. But he is capable of loyalty, and his spark feels heavy listening to the cyclop's cracking voice. "...I...I know. I... did everything I could to protect her, too, and..." His head starts to shake slowly and the hand on Whirl's back grips tighter in a show of support. "You were there, you sacrificed many things to be there for her... but you know her...knew her... as well as I. She was brash, impulsive, and inclined to rush into things. Keeping an optic on her at all times means you would've had to be surgically attached to her side. Never recharge. Not fulfill your other duties as a soldier. It just wouldn't have been possible." It's true, Shiftlock was kind of unpredictable and brash in her behavior but that's what Whirl liked about her. It's what originally introduced them. If she WASN'T unpredictable and impulsive she wouldn't have bothered to step approach him that first time, stepping between him and the poor sap he was mugging. She wouldn't have let him interface her. She wouldn't have shared all those feelings of love and acceptance and understanding that he so needed. But she WAS unpredictable and impulsive and she DID do all those things. "She had gone through so much. I.. I wanted to be close to her, keep her safe, but I didn't want to smother her. I tried to give her space, I didn't want her to think I was trying to get into her plates again. I should've said screw it and stuck close. I should've been there more. I should've.." The cyclops reaches out to grab Blast Off into a hug, pulling in close against him, his entire body shaking. There's a distinct grinding noise coming from inside him, the closest thing to a sobbing fit a robot could have. "I should've been able to save her! I should've been there! I should've.. I should've been there.." As a Combaticon and space shuttle, Blast Off has experience with a lot of different things. Shooting someone's head off from 12 miles away? Check. Rubbing elbows with the high-caste elite? Check. But consoling a sobbing cyclops is definitely not something he has experience doing. As he gets pulled into a hug, the shuttleformer freezes a moment, uncertain what to do. Then a hand reaches out, up, and slowly wraps around to pat the other mech on the shoulder while the other arm remains in an embrace. He's seen people do this, he thinks? It's called... what was it, comforting someone? He hopes he gets this right. "I...I know. I did the same. Did I ever tell you about her time at the Forge, when I trained her and she... well, she was.... very hard to resist, let me just put it that way. I still backed away, because it was not the right thing to do. I...Primus help me, I /tried/ to do the right thing by her, I just... never seem to have... succeeded." Blast Off's voice cracks a bit at that. "I should have been around mroe, or... or I should have just gone and took out that slagging Senator /before/ he..." Now his voice does crack, and he stops. "...Well, hindsight is 20/20, Whirl." The shuttleformer's arms wrap around and hold Whirl tight, a rare display of warmth from the Combaticon. "If anyone could have saved her, I know you would have. It's just... sometimes things are not meant to be." Whirl knows Blast Off well enough at this point to not expect a whole lot in the way of physical comfort but even the slightest effort, like daring to return the embrace and even (gasp) pat him on the shoulder, means a lot. There's really nothing else for Whirl to add to this discussion so he just stands there, arms wrapped around the Combaticon, 'face' buried into his shoulder, sobbing like some kind of new spark. He hasn't felt this kind of sparkbreak in... gosh, thousands of years? Maybe more? It's been a real long time, long enough that this might as well be the first time he's ever felt this way. "I don't know what to do," Whirl manages to choke out after some time. "What am I supposed to do? How am I going to get over this!? I loved her, Blast Off. I didn't think we were going to be conjunx endurae or anything like that, but I loved her just the same. She was like.. like kin to me. Now she's gone. And then what? Are you next? Are you going to get killed too? What will I do then?" He pushes his not-face harder against Blast Off's shoulder, his voice becoming quieter and less frantic. Crying (or at least the robot equivalent of it) is a surprisingly exhausting effort. "I can't lose you too.." No, Blast Off is not the most demonstrative individual. But he does his best right now to comfort Whirl, as unused as he is to such things. The normally standoffish mech continues to hold Whirl in a tight embrace, and nestles his head against Whirl's. And he shares Whirl's sparkbreak... both in his own grief for Shiftlock and in the unaccustomed grief he's experiencing seeing Whirl in so much pain. If he could stop that pain, he would. The Combatiocn's voice sounds a little shaky, and is still a little slurred. He tries to push past his drunken state and keep trying to focus enough to say something remotely useful. "I...I know. I... loved her, too. I saved her once, then she saved me... and it just grew from there. She even shared a little of her CNA with me, when she was Mercury. There's just a trace of that in me, even now. Helps me heal just a tiny bit faster." He pulls away a /little/ bit in order to look Whirl in the optics, hand coming to hold Whirl under what might qualify as his chin. "It's funny, isn't it? It was our love for her that brought us together in the first place. And I'm... not sure if one ever "gets over" something like this. You learn to live with it, over time. And ultimately time is the only healer of pain like this." At the last part, BLast Off returns to that hug, his head nestled against Whirl's once again. "Whirl, when you called out for your own destruction... on the same day I'd already lost Shiftlock..." His voice catches again, and his grip tightens on the other mech. "Do you know what that would have done to me? To lose both of you on the same day? I... I can't even imagine what I would have done. I don't know if I could have dealt with it." Whirl doesn't really remember EXACTLY what happened that day. He remembers hearing about Shiftlock's demise on the news and tearing his room apart in anguish. He barely remembers his flight to the Dead End or the broadcast he made shortly after. It's all kind of hazy, blurred by a whirlwind of emotions that made it impossible to think clearly. Then there were lots of Decepticons and then some Autobots showed up and it was a huge mess that resulted in a lot of problems. Isn't Scattershot in the brig because of all this? Maybe not /directly/ but Whirl's little stunt had a lot to do with it. Basically, it was a huge damn mess. "Yeah, I guess it is kind of funny, in a really messed up way." It's blunt as hell but it's the truth and it would make him smile a bit if he was physically capable of smiling. The words that follow are far less amusing and they elicit a pang of guilt inside the cyclops. He was so caught up in his own feelings that he didn't stop to even consider how his actions would affect the people close to him and especially what it would do to Blast Off. "I'm.. I'm sorry, Blast Off. I'm sorry. I just lose my slag sometimes. I can't help it, it's just.. everything was so overwhelming, I just went nuts and all I wanted to do was die. I'm a messed up guy.." Whirl loosens his grip on Blast Off and steps away, claws reaching up to his own chest. "Some of the Autobots are trying to help me but I don't know what's going to happen in the future. I don't know when we'll be able to see each other again or if it will ever happen. There's something I want to give you while I still can." Yes, it was a huge damn mess. At Whirl's apology, Blast Off brings a hand up to the side of the cyclop's head and begins stroking it gently with a tender caress. "I know it was overwhelming. You're more... reactive than I am, I think, and you had a LOT to react to. I just go and... stare at the stars, or drink.... or something. You've had a lot to deal with, for a very long time, and sometimes a person just reaches a breaking point." His hand stops, holding the side of Whirl's head and pressing it towards his own. That head that he *shot* once. Something that's hard to imagine ever doing now. At least not willingly. "But you /didn't/ break. You're still here. That is something, Whirl." As the cyclops pulls away, the shuttleformer's head tilts slightly. He fights a sense of unease. He doesn't want this to be the last time. "One last time" doesn't even fit anymore, yet that motto looms overhead like an axe waiting to slice down on both of them. "...What is it?" It IS a little weird to be gazing at the person Whirl cares about the most through a secondary market optic; the original having been destroyed by none other than Blast Off himself during one of their earliest encounters. Never in a milliom years would he think he'd be carrying on some kind of sordid affair with the mech who almost killed him but life is bizarre that way, isn't it? Blast Off's unease at his words does not go unnoticed. "Don't worry, I'm not going to pull a gun out on you or anything like that, as hilarious and inappropriate as it would be." Whirl uses both sets of claws to remove a large panel from his chest, tucked under the canopy of his alternate mode. He reaches deep inside of his body, the glow of his spark itself reflecting off his arms. There's a grunt and a flicker of pain in his optic as he removes his claws, a small object clutched between them. "This is my most treasured possession. I don't think anyone knows I even have it, I've never shown it to anyone but.." He holds his claws out and reveals the entirety of what he pulled out of himself. It's a watch, and beautiful one at that. Despite the place Whirl has been hiding it, it's in perfect condition; there isn't a scratch on it and it works just as well as it did the day it was made. Whirl can attest to that because he was the one who made it. "I want you to have it." Blast Off hadn't even really expected a gun. He wasn't sure what to expect. He watches intently as the other mech opens himself up and the light of Whirl's inner spark itself can be seen. He stares, optics wide now, as that light flickers through the gloom of the night and dances across his own face. His own optics flicker briefly at the cyclop's grunt of pain, then focus once more on the small object Whirl holds before him. Blast Off stands there, staring at the watch for a good long while. He knows full well the significance of the object and how much it means to Whirl. His optics flicker with barely contained emotion, then he looks up at the other mech. "It... it is beautiful. Exquisite." It could be the wine, perhaps, but his voice seems hoarse, hushed. "I... I can't take that, Whirl. Your... most treasured possession? I know how much that means, and what if...what if something happened? What if..." He stares back at the watch, head slowly shaking. "I... can't take that from you." Whirl's watchmaking background is something that doesn't come up often, entirely because he doesn't want it to. It's a special part of who he is, or rather who he USED to be, that he tends to keep to himself; few people are privy to this piece of personal history. Blast Off's compliment makes him swell with pride, absolutely overjoyed to hear someone's appreciation of his work again. "You're not taking it from me, I'm giving it to you." Whirl steps in close again, leaning in to bonk his head against Blast Off's. "If you know how much it means to me, then you should know how much it means for me to give it to you. Haven't you been inside my head enough times to understand how I feel about you? Do I have to say it outloud or something?" He shoves the watch at the other mech. "Let me give you my watch, Blast Off!" Again, as a Combaticon, a space shuttle, and High Caste elite, Blast Off has experienced a great deal many things. He's traveled from one end of the cosmos and back again. Flown through nebulas and space dust, listened to the eerie and beautiful sounds of interstellar space, seen grand vistas on distant planets that awe the optic and the mind. And yet as he stares at this gift, for a moment the granduer of all those other things fades away, and only the watch remains. As if it was the shining pinnacle; the very highlight, the central star of the galaxy itself. As Whirl leans in for a headbonk, Blast Off blinks, shifting back at the impact then forward again as he leans into Whirl in return, still gazing at the watch. He considers the other mech's plea. And as the watch is shoved at him, his hands come up to take hold of it. Still leaning in on Whirl, he examines the watch, turning it around and stroking its surface in a way that Whirl is no longer capable of. His touch is gentle and careful. "Whirl, the skill shown here is extraordinary. I mean... look, even the way the gears are set... this delicate chasing and repousse'..." He looks up into Whirl's optic. "It is a masterpiece." Then Blast Off grips the watch and draws it towards his own chest, holding it like a precious newspark. "If you want to give this to me, then.... I accept." His gaze lifts up, even though his face remains leaning against Whirl's. "...And it is now /my/ most treasured possession."